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[camarod]

psycho man

bhargrove#1969

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[camarod]

[The thing in his gut goes again; twists sharp in a way that doesn’t feel like jealousy. It feels frighteningly like longing, like a fragile dichotomy between that and happiness. He’s just getting used to happiness, too, and the longing throws him.

It’s probably not fine, after all. Still, he keeps his grin.]

Careful, that’s a lot of big moves at once.

[retromix]

I don't do things by halves, apparently.

[ He remembers Eddie chastising him for not being tactful enough around Billy, Billy's crush more accurately, and looks up with guilt faintly seeping into a frown. ]

You don't have to listen to this. I'm rambling, sorry. I didn't ask you over to ... I don't know, be an audience.

[camarod]

You want me to a brag too? Make it a little less weird?

[he could. it wouldn’t stop the turbulence, but he could.]

[retromix]

No! No, I get it. I just ... feel like we both have Eddie in common so talking about him is easy with you.

[camarod]

It’s fine. I’m happy for you or whatever.

[and like he is. he gives a shit about them both in a way he isn’t really used to and yeah, shit, it’s nice to be trusted. ]

Brag away.

[retromix]

No, forget my shit. Tell me how your business stuff is going, I want to know! Come on.

[ Sliiiding off his stool to get them seconds, give him your bowl! ]

[camarod]

It's good. Yeah it's - it's really good.

[He pauses. Hesitates, actually, before he reaches for his phone, swiping to bring up his numbers. He slides the phone between them - highlighting the subscriber count to his last monthly income which is - a lot. More money than Billy Hargrove knows what to do with, if he's honest. ]

The videos, man. They love that shit.

[retromix]

Well ... [ He drops an obvious once-over on Billy, smiling widely as he meets his eyes. ] Yeah, why wouldn't they?

[ He leans over the see the phone, brows flying up at the numbers there. ]

That's ridiculous, dude. Buy a yacht.

[camarod]

What the hell am I gonna do with a yacht? Throw a rager for a party of three?

[Look, it's tempting. There is a brief fantasy of like, summer out on the water. Steve is in a speedo, Eddie is perhaps swimming naked - anyway.]

It's just so fucking - weird. Like, I get paid to do this.

[retromix]

You're good at it, why not? At least you guys have actual talent.

[ Steve just ... calls stupid shit to his hand. Case in point: he summons some extra cheese for their second bowl of pasta, eyes flatly unimpressed. ]

[camarod]

As much as it delights me to hear you think me stroking my dick is talent -

[he's pointing a fork at Steve, brow raised. ] What's with the self-pity. You summon shit people need. That's dope.

[retromix]

It's not self-pity, it's realism. I can only summon what I need in the moment, I can't plan ahead or bank on being able to feel confident about my choices. I could let people down when they really need me. Got a bunch of weapons hidden under my damn bed in case I can't call them again.

[camarod]

I think the whole point is instinct, man.

[He really is Not Good At This, damnit, but it worked out with Eddie, so maybe. ] You've got time to work at it.

[retromix]

My instincts are usually to hit things.

[camarod]

What, like the air?

[he's teasing. mostly. ] Summon me a new St. Christopher. C'mon.

[retromix]

[ Very funny, a comedian is born. Steve rolls his eyes. ]

Do you actually need one or am I going to end up with something weird in my hand instead?

[camarod]

[He's tapping his bare neck. ] Mine didn't come with me. It's sentimental.

[retromix]

[ He relents, holding his hand out between them. ]

Billy's necklace.

[ A close approximation appears with no fuss. Surprised, Steve hands it over. ]

What's he the saint of?

[camarod]

[the soft, sincerely pleased smile is back again. he turns it over in his hand, thumb brushing over it briefly, glancing at Steve, utterly distracted by it. ]

- Travellers. My mom gave me mine as a kid.

[retromix]

Oh. Sorry I can't get the real thing for you. I think I can only get copies.

[camarod]

[He’s already putting it on: feels a little more whole with it pressed against his sternum.]

Shut up, man. It’s real.

[Just as sentimental as the original; just as sentimental as the little figure.] Thanks. I’d summon you something cool, but, you know.

[retromix]

You're here, that's pretty cool.

[ His smile is small but genuine too. ]

[camarod]

[it’s there again, the Thing. fluttering, warm. he lifts a fist, holds it out for Steve to bump.]

What would I do without those big brown eyes and mac ‘n cheese talents?

[retromix]

[ Fistbump! ]

Starve without the mac n' cheese, not sure about the rest.

[camarod]

I'd be bored shitless, man.